


Sex Pollen

by KaCole



Series: Busted [7]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Domestic Bliss, Existing Relationship, F/M, Humor, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, sexual dis-inhibition within a consenting preexisting relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 05:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17543768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaCole/pseuds/KaCole
Summary: The captain and Chakotay run into trouble while on an away missionChakotay is wide-eyed. “Are you telling me we’ve been infected with sex pollen? That's a real thing? I thought it only existed in those dreadful fan fiction stories.”





	Sex Pollen

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt at farce, with rather ridiculous elements. And hell, every fan fiction author should write at least one sex pollen story, right?  
> Thanks to @caledeniablue for the science beta read!

 

It's oh six hundred hours. Chakotay and Kathryn are in front of the mirror in her bathroom. He's already in uniform, and Kathryn is still wearing her robe, pulling a brush through her hair, while he finishes cleaning his teeth. He puts his toothbrush into a pot beside Kathryn’s. She pauses, staring at the blue and white plastic toothbrush with a curious look on her face.

“I didn’t think it would be possible, here on _Voyager_ ,” she says. “Yet we’ve slipped into domesticity.”

“Not quite. True domesticity would be me _not_ sneaking out of here before the rest of Alpha shift wakes up.” He nudges her shoulder with his. “Are you ready to go there?”

Kathryn shudders a little. “Nope.” She presses up on her bare tiptoes and kisses him lightly on the lips. “You better get going. I’ll see you on the bridge.”

His heart bubbles as he walks to his own quarters, and he doesn't bother to hide his smile. Six months ago he daren’t even dream of keeping a toothbrush in Kathryn's bathroom, yet in the last six weeks they haven’t spent a night apart. It feels like their relationship is evolving. It’s gone from him occasionally scratching her itch to something much deeper.

In truth, he's loved her a long time and he never tried very hard to hide it. Maybe she’s inching her way towards loving him back. He feels the warmth of her affection, not so much when they make love, when she's absorbed in her own pleasure, or working diligently to give him his, but after, when she lets him hold her. When she lies in his arms and they talk about everything and nothing. When she wakes smiling in the morning and sends him off to the bridge with a small kiss. When she gave him the security code to her door, and tried to act like it was all about discretion, so he'd spend less time waiting on display in the corridor, (and that _was_ surely part of it) but it was also about her letting him into a private part of her life.

He’s happier than he has been for years; Kathryn unwinds in his arms every evening and nothing on _Voyager_ has fallen apart. On the contrary. The smattering of personnel squabbles he is periodically called on to defuse is at an all-time low.

Yes, life is about as good as it can possibly be.

Looking back, he should have known everything was about to go to hell.

_#_

It's a beautiful planet. The sky is green and the grass underfoot is vivid scarlet. Kathryn and Chakotay wander a little away from the landing party, scanning for resources. All around are exotically scented flowers with folded, velvety purple petals.

The fragrance fills the air so beautifully, and the sun is divine on her back. That flower looks irresistible. If she’s honest, the fragrance makes her a little light headed, and possibly precludes her better judgement. Kathryn likes flowers, she always has, and although she should really know better, she’s powerfully tempted to take a hearty sniff of one of these.

She breathes in deeply. “Chakotay, I've never smelled anything quite so wonderful,” she says, looking up.

He strides over, his skin almost aglow under the planet's warm sun, his perfect shoulders relaxed, his face wickedly handsome. He is, she thinks, quite magnificent. And he’s hers. Her first officer. Her _lover_. Her heart starts to pulse in time with a strange feeling in her head.

Smiling, he crouches next to her and takes a sniff. “I see what you mean.” He smiles again, even more broadly.

Kathryn’s whole body tingles.

He looks across at her and reaches out. “You have pollen right here,” he says softly, wiping her cheek with his thumb. His eyes fall to her lips. He takes a breath, his pupils dilating. “God, you're beautiful.”

It's like she's kindling and he's the spark. Her body lights up. She wants him. Badly. But oh god, they shouldn't. They _can't_ , not on duty, not with the landing party close by searching for edibles.

_Edibles_. He's edible.

She can't take her eyes off him.

His _lips_.

She could steal a kiss. One kiss.

He's breathing hard now. As they crouch among the flowers he's so close she can almost feel him on her skin. She knows how good it feels when he touches her. One touch in the sunlight won't hurt.

He's gorgeous.

She's always known that, of course, she couldn't miss it, but she's never noticed just how perfect he is. Every shadow of his face. His eyes. His lips. Dimples. _Oh_.

“Kathryn,” he whispers. “Don’t look at me that way.”

There's a soft breeze, and the flowers’ heady fragrance swirls around them, filling her lungs with its sweet scent. She leans in, her lips so close to his they almost touch. “What way?”

He shudders, then whispers into her ear, “Like you want to fuck me.”

Her body is burning. “I do want to fuck you.”

“What about rule number one?” he says, his breath coming hard and fast. “No fooling around on duty?”

“Screw rule number one,” she growls. She pushes him down onto the soft red grass among the flowers.

“I don't think we should…” he begins.

She’s so aroused it’s almost overwhelming. She grinds her body against his, because she needs to know if he’s feeling turned on too.

He’s gratifyingly hard against her hip. “You want to,” she says, pushing towards him. God, she wants to touch him.

“My body does, obviously. Doesn't mean my brain thinks it's a good idea to have sex here.” He sounds pained. “What about the landing party?”

She kisses him. Her body is sending some powerful signals right now, telling her mind she needs him inside her just as much as she needs to breathe.

She pulls his hard length free and moves lower to take him in her mouth, because she's sure that will drive him crazy. Any objections he might have had to this tryst fall silent.  

It’s undignified, unprofessional, and highly inappropriate.

She doesn't give a damn.

Her body is on fire. He’s soon close to coming in her mouth, but does not issue his customary warning. She doesn't want him to finish there. She needs him inside her. Everything becomes a blur of sensations, sound and motion. Somehow, she's not even sure how, he's on top of her and they are free enough of their clothing to be screwing in the red grass of an alien planet.

Her heart is beating out of her chest. It's ecstasy. He’s wild and so is she, going higher and higher, faster and faster. Pleasure crashes through her, wave after wave. All she can mutter are filthy words, _fuck_ , and beg for _more_ , _harder_ , and he gives it to her.

He kisses her brutally to stop her screaming.

When they both come, it's like a supernova behind her eyes.

#

Chakotay collapses onto Kathryn, and for a moment he's worried she's passed out beneath him. His head is still spinning. “Are you all right?”

“No. I think I just died,” she groans.

“We need to get dressed.”

“I'm not sure I can move.”

“Yes you can. Come on.” They fumble their uniforms back into place. He frowns, looking around the grove. This is out of character, for both of them, and he knows it. Even as a horny cadet he wouldn't have done something like this. “What the hell just happened?”

She steadies herself with a hand on his chest, grinning. “I'm not sure. I'd like it to happen again, though.”

The flowers smell is cloying now, and it's a little hard to breathe. _Something_ isn't right. Every time he moves even a pace, he feels dizzy. “I don't think we should stay here.”

She tries to kiss him again. “I think I could happily die here.”

“Exactly why we have to go.” He focuses on the trees outside the grove, where there are no flowers. That’s where they should head for. He points.

She grabs his finger. “No,” she rasps. “Let's stay here and make love again.”

He's never been so tempted in his life. His head is still clouded from that frankly mind blowing orgasm, but through the fog he can just about grasp that staying here is a very bad idea.

“Get moving, Captain,” he commands, and when she doesn't shift he adds, “That’s an order.”

“Fuck,” she murmurs her eyes on his lips and then his chest. “You're sexy when you say that.” Her words are slow, as if she’s having a hard time focusing. She looks around. “Where are we?”

He can hardly breathe now. It takes every bit of will power he has left to help them stumble out of the grove, away from the little bit of heaven they found among the flowers.

#

Tuvok frowns. Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay have been missing for thirty eight minutes. He taps his comms. “Tuvok to Janeway.”

After a slight pause, he hears her voice. She sounds a little slurred. “Go ahead, Tuvok.”

“Captain, what is your current location?”

She doesn't answer.

Instead, the commander takes over. “Chakotay to Tuvok.The captian and I are beaming directly to sickbay.” The commander sounds a little clearer than the captain, but not by much. “Something down here’s affecting us. Get the landing party back to _Voyager_. Tell Harry to filter for pathogens.”

“Aye, sir.”

#

Tom Paris is on duty in sickbay. B’Elanna is working on the doctor’s mobile emitter, so Tom's already had to visit two crew members in their quarters. He doesn’t mind, but he didn't sleep well last night and he’s already pulled a full shift overhauling propulsion controls. He's just about fit to drop.

When Commander Chakotay’s call comes, it's a somewhat garbled message about the captain being unwell and the possibility of an infectious agent.

“Prepare a containment field,” the doctor commands, just as the captain and commander start to solidify. The sound of the transporter is immediately drowned out by screaming. The captain’s legs buckle and the commander is barely able to catch her.

The doctor scans them both, scowls, and picks up the tricorder Chakotay dropped when he caught the captain.

In seconds the doctor snaps an order to Harry to return them to their point of origin. The transporter takes them.

The EMH turns to Tom. “Mr Paris. Grab a respirator mask and medical tricorder. Since I can’t leave sickbay, you’re going to have to treat them down on the planet.”

“Why did you send them back down?” Tom grumbles.

“When they left the planet, the spores activated their pain receptors.”

“The what?”

“I need to analyse the data, but I believe their endocrine systems have been disrupted. They’ve been exposed to a pollen-like agent which has activated the vestigial vomeronasal organs in their olfactory tissue. It's binding to dormant chemical receptors that have long been theorized to be sensitive to pheromones.”

“Pheromones? Wait. You mean…”

“Mr Paris. Need I remind you of the confidential nature of medical information?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. The flowers infect a host, and force them to remain close by until the pollen is expelled.”

“Expelled how?”

“Most likely discharge via the nasal passage.”

“They sneeze? We have to wait until they _sneeze_ it out?”

“That would be the safest option. However, there are some unfortunate side effects. The pollen is going to impair their judgement on several levels. It’s basically an aphrodisiac.”

“Yeah, they’re going to want to…” Tom feels slightly queasy. “Can’t you give them something to counteract it?”

“I could give them synthetic vasopressin, which is a hormone that would decrease any, uh, urges they might have. But it could also make them feel hostile towards each other. I wouldn’t want to damage their relationship. I mean their _command_ relationship.”

Tom gets the impression the doctor is babbling a bit, and he’s wasting time. While Tom doesn't relish the idea of keeping two horny officers apart, he likes the idea of them alone and disinhibited even less. He might have found the situation funny at one time, but he’s grown up enough lately to know it isn't.

“I better get down there. We can't let them do something either one of them might not want.”

Doc raises eyebrow. “You are correct. I'm pleasantly surprised.”

“Come on, what do you take me for?” Tom grumbles. “I have my moments, but I understand the ethics of consent.”

#

“T'hy'la,” Kathryn purrs.

Chakotay steps back. “Look, we need to take a breath. The doctor isn't going to leave us alone down here for long.”

She grabs his hand, and tries to tug him deeper into the grove. “Come on, then, let's—”

He plants his feet firmly on the forest floor. Whatever’s affecting them clearly has a tighter grip on her than on him. Maybe it’s to do with their relative body sizes. Or maybe it’s psychological; once Kathryn's inhibitions go, they _really_ go.

God, the way she’s looking at him is almost torture, because he's sure if he gives in to her demands the sex will be amazing, and he _really_ wants to make love to her again. And take his time doing it.

She kisses him, peppering his neck, breathing hard. “I’m sorry I’m an emotional screw up.”

“Kathryn, you’re not an emotional screw up. You have a lot to juggle.”

“I want to tell you, it’s just… I can't make the words fit.”

“Just say what you feel, Kathryn.”

“T'hy'la,” she says again, pulling at his uniform.

He looks around. Tuvok could be here any minute. “You really don't want anyone to find us like this.”

“I don't care.”

It's almost killing him, because he's painfully aroused, but he's got to be responsible if she can't. He puts her at arm's length. “You _do_ care. Very much. You’re not yourself right now.”

Her eyes are reddened and he wonders if his are too. His nose feels tickly.

She growls in frustration, trying to kiss him again.

He hits his comm badge. “Chakotay to sickbay. Doctor, report.”

“I'm sending Mr Paris down momentarily.”

“With a treatment?”

“Ah, I'm working on it. Right now the best option is to wait.”

“Not as easy as it sounds,” Chakotay manages, fending Kathryn off with one arm.

“I'm quite aware of the delicacy of the situation, Commander.”

#  

Tom beams down to Omicron Theta, with a respirator over his nose and mouth to protect him from the pollen, and anxiety twisting his gut. He has a feeling navigating a gravitic minefield would be easier than what he's been sent down here to do.

The captain’s hair is dishevelled, one of her rank insignia pips is missing and she’s none too steady on her feet. The commander appears somewhat dazed, but looks in slightly better shape than she does. They’re both flushed.

Tom doesn’t quite know what he’s walked into, so he just starts to scan them without commenting on their appearance. Chakotay has to physically stop the captain wandering off so Tom can get his readings.

“Ah, your respiratory systems are loaded with pollen fragments from these flowers. It’s increased levels of testosterone in you, commander, and the captain’s estrogen and testosterone levels are both sky high.”

“I’m not all together surprised to hear that, Tom,” Chakotay says, with what seems to be strained patience. “What are you going to do about it?”

The captain is staring around the grove. “Flowers?” she mumbles. “These flowers? Well I can certainly see the resemblance to female sexual organs now I look…”

She bends down to examine a flower again. “Captain!” Tom takes her arm and guides her away. “It might not be the best idea to breath in more of that stuff.”

Chakotay is wide-eyed. “Are you telling me we’ve been infected with sex pollen? That's a real thing? I thought it only existed in those dreadful erotic fan fiction stories.”

“In erotic _what_?” the captain turns around to Chakotay a little faster than is wise in her wobbly condition. Tom keeps hold of her arm.

Chakotay coughs. “Ah, you probably don't want to know.”

“Actually I do.” The captain tries to wiggle free of Tom’s grip and sidle up to Chakotay.

“Not now,” he hisses, keeping her at arm’s length. “Paris?” Chakotay snaps at Tom, “I presume you came down here with at least some kind of treatment plan?”

“Uh, yes, commander. Your lungs are working on expelling the pollen, and the plants will keep you here until you do. So I suggest we get comfortable.” Standing behind her, he places two hands on the captain’s shoulders and guides her away from Chakotay, towards a large tree. “Why don’t we sit here and wait?”

“Wait? For what?” the captain demands, glaring at him over her shoulder.

He’s never seen her like this, so dishevelled and disinhibited. “You lungs will expel the pollen and the impact on your endocrine system will decrease. Then you’ll get back to normal. I hope.”

“Wait.” The captain stops in her tracks, turning around and waving a finger at Tom. “You mean we’re going to _sneeze_ the pollen back into the grove? We’re the _insects_ in the sexual reproduction cycle of these flowers?” She puts her hand over her mouth and starts to laugh.

Tom glances at Chakotay. He’s scowling, not seeing the funny side, and when the captain moves in Chakotay’s direction, the commander signals for Tom to help him guide her towards the tree.

“Captain, would you _please_ just come and sit down?” Chakotay asks, his voice tight.

Somehow they manage to manoeuvre the sniggering captain into sitting propped against the tree. Chakotay jabs a finger at Tom, telling him in no uncertain terms to put himself between him and her. Tom reluctantly sits down. Chakotay and sits beside him, scowling.

Seconds later, the captain leans across Tom, and slurs, “Mr Paris, although I can’t remember if I enjoyed making lizard babies with you, I’m afraid I only have eyes for Chakotay right now.”

“Kathryn,” Chakotay warns, “Stop it.”

“Ghuy’cha’” she fires back, still leaning over Tom, her hand carelessly on his leg.

Tom groans inwardly. If the captain’s started swearing in Klingon, then things really have gotten out of hand. He shifts her gently back. She doesn’t resist, and she relaxes against the tree, her eyes drifting closed.

He wants to reassure the commander that he can be trusted with the captain’s dignity, that he won’t blab about whatever’s been said or done here.

“Look, Chakotay” he says, his voice raspy through the respirator mask, “Maybe I haven’t always been the most discreet guy on _Voyager_ , but you don’t have to worry about me talking about any of this.”

Chakotay says nothing, resting his head back against the tree with his eyes closed. Tom is just glad the captain’s disinhibited behaviour is directed towards the commander and not him. He doesn’t envy the guy having to untangle this mess later.

After a few minutes of silence, the captain seems to be asleep, so Tom takes a quick scan. Her heart rate and breathing are on the rapid side, not dangerously so, but her estrogen levels are shockingly high. The pollen in her lungs seems to be getting more mobile, so Tom takes that as a sign that with luck, this might be over soon.

He relaxes against the tree. It’s been a long day. The evening sun is warm, and although he’s still wearing the respirator mask and it’s not exactly that comfortable, he finds himself drifting off to sleep.

When Tom starts awake, the captain and Chakotay are nowhere to be seen. He leaps up, and races through the grove of flowers, cursing himself, and hoping against hope he’s not going to find them in a horribly compromising position.

He hears the captain’s voice, and slows down. He ducks behind a tree to decide what to do next.   

“Qu’vatlh! Why not?” There’s a desperation to her voice he never imagined hearing. Tom peeps around the trunk. Thankfully the pair are both fully dressed, although the captain is swaying angrily as she paces back and forth.

“Kathryn! You have to get a grip.” Chakotay’s voice is angry too, although Tom thinks he’s keeping a lid on it better than the captain.  

“To hell with that! If you won’t screw me then at least make me come.”

“You’re not thinking clearly!”

The captain seems not to be listening. “I’m burning up, here. I need you. I want… everything.” She approaches him, her voice lowering. “I want to feel what it's like to have your cock in my ass. Haven't you wondered about that when you take me from behind? _I_ have. I've just been too damn inhibited to ask.”

Chakotay keeps her at arms-length, but looks her in the eye. “I love you, and there's nothing I wouldn't happily do with you. But in the privacy of our quarters, when we’re both capable of fully consenting.”

Tom listens in a kind of trance, both sorry he’s eavesdropping on what is clearly a very private conversation, but also fascinated. Not by the captain’s desires, or Chakotay’s response; they're only human after all and he’s certainly in no position to judge. He’s not even shocked by the revelation they’ve had sex before, because when he thinks about the way they look at each other, that's not actually the biggest surprise in the universe.

But the _subtext._ “ _Our quarters_ ”.

The slip reveals that in Chakotay's mind at least they are living together. How the hell have they pulled _that_ off with no one knowing? How did _he_ miss it? He must be loosing his touch.

Chakotay starts to cough. He clutches his chest. “Chakotay!” the captain exclaims.

The time for discretion is past. Tom hurries to help. They are both on their knees by the time he reaches them.

Their eyes are red and streaming. Chakotay splutters. The captain’s breath is laboured, and for a moment Tom’s worried he’ll have a genuine medical emergency on his hands.

Then Chakotay sneezes. Once he starts the captain does too, and Tom decides it’s wise to take his scans from a little distance.

“Paris to sickbay. Doctor, do you hear that?” The captain and Chakotay are still sneezing loudly.

“Ah! The dispersal phase of the pollination cycle. Are you monitoring their vital signs?”

“Of course. They’re respiration and heart rates are high but not dangerous. The commander’s testosterone is dropping all the time.”

“Good. And the captain?”

“Ah, yeah, not so good. Hormone levels still spiking. Doc, I think you might need some of that vasopressin on standby.”

“Understood. As soon as the pollen fragments in their lungs drop to one part per hundred, beam directly to sickbay.”

#

Kathryn opens her eyes and then closes them again. She’s in sickbay. The world is painfully bright and intrusive, when right now she desires darkness and oblivion. She remembers everything with shocking clarity. Every lewd thing she said and did down on that planet is shamefully seared in her memory. She wants to die.

“Captain,” the EMH begins, “You may be feeling rather irritable—”

She flicks her eyes open. “Where’s Chakotay?”

“I’ve released Commander Chakotay. Because of the residual effects of the pollen, his presence was triggering off further spikes in your estrogen levels. Both of your endocrine systems were severely disrupted.”

“Well I suppose that explains any out of character behaviour,” she says, staring upwards to avoid looking at the doctor.

“Yes. Quite. None of it’s your fault, nor indeed the commander’s. You need to rest. You’ll be on an emotional roller coaster for the next few hours.”

No doubt he’s trying to make her feel better about the whole debacle, but she should have never have exposed herself to that pollen in the first place. This is on her, and she’s furious with herself for it.

“I suppose I should be grateful I was with Chakotay,” she whispers at the ceiling, more to herself than to the doctor.

“Indeed. I think your existing bond had a lot to do with the way the situation played out.”

She snaps her head towards him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I doubt you would have become quite so disinhibited if you weren't already…”

“Already _what_ , Doctor?”

He takes a flustered step backwards. “Already close. I don’t mean to pry, Captain, but—”

“Then don’t!” Kathryn swings her legs off the bed and steadies herself for a moment.

“Captain, I’d really rather you remained in sickbay for another hour—”

She starts towards the door.

“—and I’m certainly not declaring you fit for duty for another two days!”

Kathryn raises a hand but doesn’t pause or turn. “Fine. I’ll be in my quarters.”  She certainly isn’t going to hang around any longer than necessary in sickbay. She needs to get back to her own space, regain her composure, not to mention take a bath.

Uncannily, she doesn’t see anyone en route to her quarters, as if an unseen hand cleared the decks to protect her privacy, but she doesn’t have a scrap of energy to devote to wondering how it happened.

Back in her bathroom, she stands in front of her mirror. She looks perfectly dreadful. Her hair is full of red grass, her uniform disheveled, and one of her command pips is gone, along with most of her dignity. It must have been obvious to Tom Paris what she and Chakotay were doing right before he arrived.

She covers her eyes with her hands, unable to look at the woman in the mirror a moment longer.

She should probably talk to Chakotay to about how they’re going to deal with this mess, but her shame is curdling into anger. How could they let this happen? How could she? This happened because she let her heart over rule her better judgement, let her feelings for Chakotay bubble over and become this shitshow. What the hell is she supposed to do now?     

She's grinding her teeth, unable to relax her jaw, or unclench her fists. She wants to scream.

Her door opens. Chakotay orders the lights on fifty percent and steps into the bathroom. He's at least had time to shower and change clothes.

“You look terrible,” he says.

“I _feel_ terrible,” she snaps back.

He tries to put his arms around her, but she shrugs him off. “You’re upset about what happened down there,” he says.

“Oh, well spotted. We let ourselves get completely compromised.”

“It wasn't exactly our fault, Kathryn. No one knew those flowers would infect us like that. It could have happened to anyone.”

“It didn't happen to anyone. It happened to the captain and first officer!”

“Like I said, we can't be held responsible for things that happened under the influence of an infectious agent.”  

“From what the doctor said, I don't think this would have gone as far as it did if… there wasn't intimacy between us. We set ourselves up for this.”

“Okay. But I don't see what difference that makes.”

“It makes it worse! If we weren't sleeping together I'd have been able to keep myself under control. This is humiliating. Tom Paris—”

“Tom's more discreet than you might think.”

She scoffed. “Tom Paris will be collecting on the betting pool by the end of Delta shift tomorrow.”

“You _know_ about the betting pool?”

Her face burns red hot. “There really _is_ a betting pool? I was speaking figuratively! What the hell else don't I know about around here?”

Chakotay tries again to reach out to her, and again she twists away. Letting him touch her got them into this mess in the first place.

“So they’ll think we had sex. Kathryn, is that actually the worst thing in the universe?” he says.

She folds her arms. “Just about.”

He narrows his eyes. “I can't believe this. Are you ashamed of me?”

Kathryn marches out of the bathroom, needing to be out of the confined space, away from the damn mirror reflecting the worst of herself.

“Not of you! Of myself! Of letting this get so far out of hand that I end up screwing my first officer on an alien planet so the whole damn crew can find out!” Her face reddens with fury. She takes a breath to try to calm down, and grips the back of a dining chair. She forces herself to speak slowly. “We’re going to have to show everyone that we are not, in fact, having sex.”

He barrels after her. “How the hell are we going to do that?”

“We have to stop seeing each other.”

“What? No! That makes no sense at all.”

“It makes perfect sense! When people find out what happened down there, they’ll start looking for other things. It won't take long before they realise you spend the night here. Seven knows already.”

“We'll be more careful.”

“It won't be enough! People will think I've lost my objectivity, and that I’ll make decisions based on how I feel about you, not on what's best for this crew. It will spread like an infection, Chakotay. Loss of respect. Disintegration of the command structure. We’ll put the entire ship at risk.”

“You won't do that. You _haven't_. We've been together for months, and I haven't seen one choice you've made in that time that you wouldn't have made before.”

Kathryn is pacing, not really listening, because although she's angry with him she's angrier with herself. “Damn it, we should have known better from the start. _I_ should have known better.”

“Kathryn, you're blowing this up out of proportion…”

“So I'm being irrational?”

“That's not what I meant...”

“You're thinking with your cock!” she snarls.

“That’s rich after your performance! If you think what we've had between us is just about sex, perhaps you don't know me as well as I thought.”

He's really angry now, angrier that Kathryn’s ever seen him. His eyes become dark, and for the first time in all these years she's a little afraid of him. Her heart races.  

His voice deepens. He steps towards her. “Is this how it's going to be? When it gets difficult, or inconvenient you'll just revert back to calling me up when ever the hell it suits you?”

Her hand shakes. “No. I'm serious. We stop this affair now. We never should have started it.”

“You called me T'hy'la! I'm not an idiot. I know what it means! Lover. Soul mate. Life long companion.”

“I was half out of my mind! As I recall I also said some other things I didn't mean.”

He turns away, as if he's trying very hard to hide the hurt and anger in his eyes and keep calm. He takes a breath. “You're embarrassed. Is that what this is about? Because—”

“Yes, I'm embarrassed!” She flings her arms up in exasperation. “About this whole damn thing. What was I thinking? Sleeping with a subordinate. I must have been out of my mind from the start!”

He becomes still. “If that's how you feel, maybe we both need time to cool off.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Just like that, he turns on his heels and leaves. She's not sure whether to feel relieved or devastated.  

Kathryn bites the inside of her cheek. Her face burns. She goes to her bathroom and splashes water on her face, trying to slow her breathing.

What a god-awful mess. She leans heavily on her basin, and stares at the weak, weak woman in the mirror. She's been the worst kind of fool to think she could do her duty and have an affair with him, too. She crossed a line and now they would both pay the price. But better that than the whole ship. Maybe she can salvage a shred of dignity and self respect if she ends this now.

She looks down at the two toothbrushes side by side in the pot. It's no good, she can't hold back the crashing pain any longer. It feels like a new hole has been ripped in a heart full of scars.

Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship _Voyager,_ breaks down in her bathroom, and sobs, bitter, angry tears.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know I've left you hanging here! I've got the next instalment almost written, and I promise that this series won't end badly. 
> 
> Next: the captain and Chakotay are both miserable. Their crew resolve to do something about it.


End file.
